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She nods, and her smile grows.
“Doing what?” I allow myself a bite of taco. Not only am I hungry, but I’m not clear if this is one of Georgia’s really good or really risky ideas, and I don’t know how to answer. I can’t positive-think my way into believing an opportunity to be on TV just dropped in my lap.
“Remodeling and interior design. What else?” She lifts a chip from her plate, letting the melted cheese stretch until it breaks, and dips it into the avocado sauce. “Nachos really need guacamole. Just sayin’.”
“New Yorkers don’t know how to do guac.” I steal one of her chips and dip it, knowing I won’t be satisfied now that Georgia reminded me of guacamole. She’d taught Izzy and me how to make it, but I could never quite replicate her recipe. “What do you mean you want me to be on the show too? One time? All the time? Either way, who wants to watchmedecorate a house on TV?”
She rolls her eyes. “Do you know how long Bob Vila was on TV? Or how many fans he still has—of course you know that…” She rolls her eyes again. My love for Bob Vila is deep. “You’re so much cuter than him, and you know just as much about houses.”
“Ha! No one knows as much or is cuter than Bob Vila.” I had a poster of him in college that I may or may not have kissed good night more than once. He’s like the fun grandpa I never had.
“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that point.” She dips another chip into the avocado sauce. “This is actually really good for not being guacamole.”
“People may want to watch you. They definitely would not want to watch me.” Still, considering my current work situation, where I mainly order stuff—fabric, paint, furniture, coffee—mostly coffee; Georgia’s idea has piqued my interest.
“Again, agree to disagree. You’re funny and adorable, and together, we’re doubly funny and adorable.” Her lips slide into a teasing grin. “I need a good ass--”
I hold up my hand to cut her off. “Don’t sayass-istant.” I’ve joked more than once I’m an ass-istant—heavy on the ass—because of everything I put up with. “I already have that job.”
“Okay.” Her mouth returns to her natural smile. The one that makes everything seem possible. “Sidekick. I need a sidekick who’s fun and cute and can pull her weight. At least that’s what the network told me, and the first person I thought of was you. They won’t pay for hype; they want substance.”
I answer by stealing another one of her nachos and chewing it while I think. “Tell me more,” I say when I’ve swallowed. “I’m guessing I’d have to give up the job I have. Would I make what Frank is paying? More? Is this show a sure thing?”
She waits as long to answer my questions as I did to ask them, wiping her hands on napkins and catching her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. That last one is a telltale sign she’s left out the risky part of this deal.
“Not a sure thing yet, and the pay is really low until things take off,” she finally answers, then holds up her pointer finger to stop my protests.
“The network has their own person in mind for my assist—sidekick.I’ve convinced them you’re a better fit because we’re already friends.” She plows past my shaking head to get her words out before I can tell her no way. I can’t afford any lower pay than what I’m already making. “I showed them some of your reels, and they like your personality, but they want to see what you can do at a smaller level with the house before they commit to hiring you for the bigger project I have in mind. The one that will be on the TV show.”
“Bigger project?” That stops my no.
Georgia grins and nods. “But first things first, then I’ll tell you about the big project. What other questions do you have so far?”
So many...
I tilt my head to the side. “If the pay is low, can I do the renovation and keep the one I have?” It’s boring, but it’s stable. And there’s always the possibility of designing, someday. Maybe...
Georgia shakes her head slowly. “But you’ll love this job so much more than working for Frank,” she says in a rush. “Don’t say no until I tell you everything.”Like she’d even give me time to.“I’d be doing the bigger picture stuff, like designing layouts. You’re so good at repurposing old things and mixing them with the new. That would be your focus. The real interior design details.”
I take another bite of taco. My stomach is swirling with so much excitement I can barely digest anything, let alone Georgia’s really good, really risky idea. Working with my bestie, doing what I love, onTV, like Bob Vila? It all sounds way too good to be true, but my pulse is pumping like it used to when I knew I was going to win a race even before the starter gun went off.
“So, I’d be working for free until I prove myself? Is that the catch?” I take the chip Georgia reaches for and smile. It’s not a yes, but pretty close, and she knows it.
“No catch.” Her too-confident voice doesn’t fool me.
“There’s always a catch.” I lift an eyebrow and wait. “Giving up the job I have, for one.”
Her green eyes gleam like a cat’s who’s ready to pounce. “All you have to do is prove to the producers that you’re a good fit—which won’t be a problem—then, once the show gets the green light, they hire you permanently for the rest of the project. You get paid during the trial period,” she tips her ear to her shoulder apologetically. “Just not very much.”
Not very muchdoesn’t solve my money problems, but I set that worry aside. Because it sounds like the good things lying ahead just got a lot closer. Within reach, even.
“Okay, I’m not saying yes... yet.” I return her grin. Obviously, I’m saying yes. “How do I prove myself? Send them my portfolio?” If Georgia’s already buttered up the producers, I have a good chance. Georgia could talk a New Yorker into rooting for the Red Sox. A vegan into eating a hot dog. A Kansan into voting for a Democrat...
Okay, so maybe she can’t do the impossible. But she might need to be if she has to sell the producers on my portfolio. It’s a little slim. Not educationally or anything—I have a bachelor’s and master’s in interior design from two of the best design schools in the country.
But I also graduated grad school at the beginning of COVID, which made finding a job pretty much impossible. I took the first offer I got, and while I like Frank well enough, I don’t get to do any of my own designing. My portfolio is comprised of ideas for what I want to do, not examples of what I’ve done.
“They want a little more than a portfolio.” Georgia moves her chips around without actually eating any of them or looking into my eyes.
